


a downward spiral

by CS_WhiteWolf



Category: Criminal Minds
Genre: Coda: 7.02, Confrontations, Denial, Dilaudid, Gen, Grief/Mourning, Hurt/Comfort, M/M, Misplaced Anger, Past Drug Addiction, Potential Relapse
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2014-07-25
Updated: 2014-07-25
Packaged: 2018-02-10 08:05:23
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,422
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/2017359
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/CS_WhiteWolf/pseuds/CS_WhiteWolf
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>
  <em>Such a small thing, he thought, staring down at the vial nestled in the palm of his hand. To be so consequential to him, to hold so much power over him. The clear liquid inside sloshed against the sealed lid as he rolled the vial into his fingers- thumb and index- pinching it tight and holding it to eye level before he curled his fingers around it once more and hid it from his sight.</em>
</p>
            </blockquote>





	a downward spiral

**Author's Note:**

> Coda: 7.02. Written in response to Reid's throwaway line to JJ about how he could have started taking Dilaudid again after thinking they'd lost Emily.

Such a small thing, he thought, staring down at the vial nestled in the palm of his hand. To be so consequential to him, to hold so much power over him. The clear liquid inside sloshed against the sealed lid as he rolled the vial into his fingers- thumb and index- pinching it tight and holding it to eye level before he curled his fingers around it once more and hid it from his sight.

He shouldn't have said it. He'd known the second the words had left his lips that he shouldn't have said it, but he'd just been so angry. Had lashed out like a child and thrown out the first thing he could think of that would hurt her as much as it could hurt him. He shouldn't have said it. Not least because now she'd be thinking... they'd all be thinking...

He hunched over the sink he stood before, bathroom door locked, sleeves rolled up past the elbow to display the scars of his past. They sickened him, scared him, taunted him with the reminder of just what he'd been, what he'd done, what he could still do.

He unclenched his fingers, twisting the glass vial round and around. He shouldn't feel like this. Not now that Emily was back. But- today had just been so... and he'd... he hadn't been lying when he'd told JJ that he'd thought about it. For months he'd been thinking about it, crying about it, lying curled and sobbing on the cool tile of his bathroom floor clutching this damned vial as if it were a lifeline, as if it could take all the pain away. But he hadn't. He'd resisted. And now she was back and instead of grief he felt consumed by anger. Misdirected as it was.

It was hard not to lie to himself. But he knew. Deep down he knew. He wasn't angry at them. He was angry with himself. Because Emily was back and the vial that had been taunting him for the last few months, the vial he'd never dared take out of his own bathroom, he'd brought that vial with him on this case. He hadn't done that before. Not since...

He shivered, belly tight with dread, that nauseous lurch of excitement too at holding the vial. He wanted to. He really really wanted to. And it scared him. It scared him so much because it'd been years since he last felt so close to the edge. All the times he'd craved, all the times he'd thought about giving in to the sirens call, he'd never gone so far as to purchase any. Until now. Until Emily.

It wasn't fair. On either of them. Using her as an excuse to undo everything he'd achieved.

His right hand found the inside of his elbow without looking, nails sharp as they dug into the soft skin there, emulating the pinch of a needle and he shivered, full bodied, his breath leaving him in a whoosh of exhaled air. He felt his body flush, heat pricking up the length of him and he swallowed heavily against the dryness of his throat.

He wanted to. Desperately he wanted to.

His breathing was heavier now. He could hear it loud against his ears, even over the thrumming of his own heartbeat. Palms sweaty. The vial still cool against the clamminess of his grip.

But he couldn't.

Not again.

He couldn't do that to himself. To the team. He needed them. He should... he should just pour it down the sink. Get rid of the temptation. Pretend as though he hadn't come this close...

He uncurled his fingers, lifting the vial to his eyeline once more.

That's when the knock at the door sounded.

Startled out of his inner debate, he found himself fumbling the vial, watching as it slipped from his shaking fingers to smash against the porcelain of the sink. He stared in horror as glass and liquid exploded against the hard surface, heart thundering against his chest as panic immediately set in and he reached for the shards, fingers slicing against the sharp edges, ignorant of the blood he left smeared against the stark white of the sink.

'Reid. Reid, open the door!'

He'd meant to answer Hotch, meant to tell him he'd be a moment, but the words lodged themselves against his throat, choking him, and it was all he could do to just keep breathing around the cut-off sobs clawing their way across his tongue.

He had to hide it. He couldn't let him know. Couldn't let them see what he'd been reduced to.

The door suddenly smashed open and Reid flinched violently, fingers automatically closing over the shards he held. Hotch was on him in an instant, grabbing at his arms, his thumbs digging into the flesh just below the scars of track-marks long ago healed as he checked... he checked for...

"I didn't do it!" Reid blurted, voice pitched too high to be believed.

Hotch's face was pale, his grip unbreakable even as Reid tried to jerk his arms away.

"Hotch, I didn't... I haven't..." he shook his head, hair flying into his face.

"You're bleeding," the words were angrily exhaled and Reid tried pulling away again as Hotch stared at his hands, at the blood dripping from his clenched fists, his shaking fingers.

"Open your hands, Reid."

Reid shook his head, teeth slicing into the soft flesh at the inside of his mouth. He could feels the tremours wracking their way through his body. He was breathing too heavily, too shallowly, felt too light-headed and disorientated, sick to the stomach. Hotch knew. He didn't have to see. He knew.

"Hotch, please," he begged, not above it. He tried to pull away again but Hotch just held fast, tugging him closer towards the sink. He released one of his arms just long enough to flick the tap on before he thrust both of his hands under the steady flow of water. The cold was a shock, making him flinch.

"Reid, we need to get it off your skin."

He looked at Hotch, at the closed off expression on his face and had to look away again. There was disappointment there. Anger too. He shouldn't be surprised.

"Open your hands," he said, fingers tightening. Reid winced.

"Hotch, please..."

"Now, Reid."

He felt the tears then. The barely there prickle before his eyes were blurred and burning with tears. He clenched his eyes tightly closed even as he forced his shaking hands to unclench. He couldn't look. Didn't dare.

"I didn't... I didn't..." He heard Hotch inhale sharply, a curse falling from his lips.

"Keep your hands under the water," he commanded roughly and Reid didn't have it in him to protest then. Hotch released him but Reid stayed where he was, even as the cold began to steal the feeling from his fingers, burning them to numbness.

He opened his eyes when he heard Hotch moving around the bathroom, fetching the first aid kit from beneath the sink and taking it through to the bedroom. When he returned, he saw that Hotch had donned a pair of sterile gloves. Reid looked away again. Biting at his lips as Hotch wrapped his fingers around his left wrist and began to pluck the larger shards of glass still embedded there. He barely flinched. Hotch did the same with his right hand. The blood had stopped. None of it had cut too deep.

He saw the label before Hotch did and tensed, kept his head down as Hotch read the handwritten letters.

Bold black against a grungy, blood stained white.

 _Dilaudid_.

"I didn't take it," he breathed, words timid, almost as though he didn't believe himself.

Hotch said nothing.

"Hotch, I promise!"

"Then why do you have it?"

Reid shook his head, tears hot against his cheeks. "I didn't take it," he repeated, the 'but I wanted to' remained unspoken.

Hotch reached out and flicked off the tap, taking hold of Reid at the elbow and leading him through into the room he shared with Morgan. Hotch sat him on his bed before pulling up a chair to sit directly in front of him. Reid dropped his head, pressing his forehead against his wrists until Hotch softly called his name. When he looked up again Hotch had a towel across his knees and a pair of tweezers in his hand.

Wordlessly, Reid held his hands out before dropping his head again. He tried to focus on the pinch and pull of the tweezers as Hotch extracted the smaller fragments of glass from them.

"You told JJ that you'd thought about doing this," Hotch said after a long moment. He finished up with Reid's hands by dabbing each of the papercut thin slices with peroxide. Reid barely flinched at the sting.

He heard Hotch packing up the kit and made to pull away but Hotch caught at his fingers, gloves gone, squeezing them tightly.

"You can't do this to yourself, Spencer, not again."

Perhaps it was the use of his first name, or the explicit admission that Hotch knew (when they'd always pretended that none of them did), but he suddenly felt as if he had to explain himself, as if he should confess to Hotch exactly what he'd been thinking (or hadn't been) when he'd purchased that vial.

He bit his lips hard, tasting blood. "I'm sorry," he whispered instead, forcing the words back.

He tugged on his hands and Hotch released them, but he only lifted one from Hotch's hold, to brush the heel of his hand against his eyes. Hotch reached up then, laying his palm against his cheek, thumb rubbing gently at the bruise coloured skin beneath his eye.

"I know we betrayed you, but you must understand why we had to do it. It wasn't that we didn't trust you, because we did- we do- but we had to keep Emily safe, and if you'd all known, we wouldn't have grieved the way we did. She wouldn't have been safe."

"I'm sorry," he said again.

"I know. I'm sorry too. I didn't see how badly you were taking this."

"You weren't here," he said, dropping his gaze. Flinching when he realised he shouldn't have said that. "I- I didn't want anyone to see." He wet his lips, swallowing against the taste of blood.

"Still, I'm not oblivious to your situation. I should have made a point to check in on you more. All of you."

"No. It's not... this is- it isn't anyone else's problem."

"Yes, it is." Hotch disagreed. "When it affects us as a team, it becomes our problem. I want you to take a few days-,"

"No!" He gasped, panic seizing him like a punch to the chest.

"Reid-"

"Hotch, no! Please don't do that. I need this job, Hotch. I need- I need the distraction. Please don't suspend me." It was he who clutched now at Hotch's hands.

"Reid I can't in good conscience let you stay on this case."

"I wasn't going to use it!" He said, hysteria creeping into his voice, "Check my bag. I don't have anymore. I don't even have needles. The bottle was still sealed. I was about to pour it down the sink when you knocked. And I panicked, okay? I didn't want you to see- I didn't want this to happen, please?"

Hotch squeezed at his fingers again, before lifting a hand to scrub over his own face.

"Please, Hotch?"

The silence stretched on. He felt sick to his stomach. Dread and shame curling in his belly, creeping its way up his esophagus to burn biliously at the back of his throat.

When Hotch asked for his phone, he didn't waste time questioning it. He fumbled for his pants pocket, pulling out the device and handing it over with imploring eyes. Hotch unlocked it without having to ask for the code and he watched, nervously, as he flicked through his contacts. Selected one. Dialed.

"Sir, this is Agent Hotchner," he said, eyes fixed on Reid. "Yes, he's right here. Thank you, sir."

He handed the phone over without a word and Reid felt himself slump as he lifted the device to his ear. It was his sponsor. He pressed the heel of his left hand into his eye, forcing out the words he needed to say. He should have called sooner. Should have called the very first time he'd thought of relapsing. Should never have let it go far enough to actually purchase a vial. But he hadn't wanted to admit just how far he'd been falling. How far he could have gone.

He heard Hotch moving about the room, searching through his bags, the bathroom. He felt his skin flush horribly but said nothing. He'd told him to afterall.

He didn't know which was worse, having Hotch find him or having to tell his sponsor exactly what had happened. Hotch came back over to him once he'd ended the call, laying a hand on his shoulder as he sat, slumped over himself, the phone pressed hard against his mouth.

"He's going to be there when the plane lands. I told him I didn't know when we'd finish the case, but he said he'd be waiting for me whenever we did."

He swallowed thickly. Hotch squeezed at his shoulder, seating himself beside Reid this time.

"I'm going to ask that Morgan swap rooms with me," Hotch said and he just nodded. "We're going to find a meeting for you to go to tonight. I won't come in with you, but I will drop you off and wait for you. I won't suspend you-," at this Reid lifted his head, looking to Hotch with abject relief but Hotch shook his head before he could speak. "I won't suspend you, but when we get back to DC you need to start going back to your meetings, and speaking to your sponsor. And if you ever-," he broke off, exhaling heavily through his nose.

"I won't," he promised softly.

"I'm not sure you can promise me something like that right now," Hotch returned, shaking his head.

Reid nodded, ashamed, fingers twisting against his phone, cuts burning angrily as he aggravated them. Hotch sighed, sliding his hand round his back to grip at his opposite shoulder and Reid slumped into his hold, letting his head fall against Hotch's own shoulder.

"We'll get through this, Spencer," he said, the words sounding like a promise of his own.

**end.**


End file.
